


I Could Say

by shellface



Series: For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic [4]
Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, domestic AU, for once hakyeon is not involved, hongbin has family issues, mainly because he has no idea what's going on, wonshik cons hongbin into moving in with him, wonshik is a workaholic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9684755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellface/pseuds/shellface
Summary: When Hongbin inadvertently tells his parents they're dating, the only place he wants to be is in Wonshik's arms.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> An early celebration of Wonshik's birthday? Who knows?

The ringing of the bell is so insistent that it wakes Wonshik up from his nap. Blearily, he sits up, rubbing his eyes and staring blankly at the screen in front of him.

What's going on? He blinks furiously, trying to clear his mind. He's just about to get a drink, when the ringing starts again. His phone vibrates frantically next to the mouse pad, and he catches a glimpse of the caller.

Hongbin? But – they don't have any plans. Not that he knows of, anyway. A cold feeling settles in his stomach, as he wonders if he's managed to forget plans again. He's been doing that a lot lately, since things got busy and he's been burning both ends of the candle, trying to perfect the song in time for Jaehwan to record it.

He knows Hongbin hates it when he forgets him. He also knows that Hongbin does not like Jaehwan, at all, and that nothing he says or does seems to counteract that.

Yawning, he picks up the phone and accepts the call, already trying to think up ways to make up for forgetting his boyfriend, _again_. “I'm so, so sorry,” he starts, even before Hongbin can get a word in. “I know I keep doing this, and I really don't mean to, and I promise, as soon as this song is done I will whisk you away somewhere, just the two of us and – ”

“What are you babbling about?” Hongbin asks. His voice sounds...off, and immediately, Wonshik is concerned. “Can you just let me in, please?” He swallows, and Wonshik hears him curse softly. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so rude. I know you're busy, and I know I didn't even call, I just – ” He breaks off, and Wonshik is sure he hears a sob before he starts up again. “I don't know where else to go.”

Wonshik is already walking over to the intercom to press the button that releases the outer door. “Come on up,” he says, “the door should be open now. You're always welcome, you know that.”

Hongbin thanks him, and hangs up. He is left to wait awkwardly by the door, listening for the creak of the ancient lift as Hongbin makes his way up. As it clanks to a stop, he opens the door, and Hongbin stumbles out.

He doesn't look _bad_ , per se – but the top buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, and his tie is loosened around his neck. He does not look put together and perfect, as he usually does when he has been at work.

“Are you okay?” Wonshik takes a hold of his wrist, gently tugging him inside. He shuts the door, and turns back to him. “You don't look so good.”

Hongbin is silent for a moment. “I was with my family,” he says, voice low, “which is always a mistake.” He laughs. “My mother called me, said I should come over. Somehow I got shanghaied into a family dinner, and they spent the entire night going on and on about my sisters.”

“Oh,” Wonshik bites the inside of his lip. He is not sure how to respond. It is always hard to tell, with Hongbin; sometimes he can shrug things off, and other times, they seem to affect him more than you'd expect. “So it was bad, then?”

“Yes,” Hongbin looks down at his hand, still closed around his wrist. “It was bad.”

Wonshik lets his hand fall, and scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Do you want a drink, or anything?” He hopes there's actually food and drink in his fridge. He can't be sure, seeing as he hasn't really been eating at normal times.

Hongbin shakes his head. “No. I just wanted – you, I guess,” he sighs, and reaches up to undo his tie. His fingers are shaking, and Wonshik bats his hand away to do it himself. “But you're busy,” he says in a small voice. “I shouldn't have come over.”

He rolls his eyes, pulling the tie through his collar. He sets it down on the coffee table. “I was asleep when you called, faceplanting on my keyboard. You are a very welcome distraction.”

“Are you sure?” Hongbin looks at him, and he sees his face clearly for the first time. His eyes are red, and he has alarmingly large under-eye circles. He obviously hasn't been sleeping, and Wonshik is sure he's been playing endless video games to distract himself from the sudden onset of insomnia.

“Of course I'm sure,” he says softly, feeling guilty. Perhaps he has been neglecting him of late, but it was never intentional – he just gets so caught up in his work that he has to be dragged back to reality. Sometimes kicking and screaming; Hongbin tells him he is the very definition of a workaholic, and he can't disagree. He likes things to be perfect.

But it's not as if Hongbin's work doesn't keep them apart, either.

“Okay,” Hongbin says. He stands awkwardly for a minute, before shrugging off his coat, and hanging it next to Wonshik's extensive collection of jackets. “I'll – sit down.”

“I'll make tea,” Wonshik says. He's sure he still has his favourite blend, mainly because he doesn't drink it. And Hongbin doesn't take milk, so it doesn't matter if he doesn't have any in the fridge.

When he returns from the kitchen, balancing two mugs on a tray he didn't know he owned, plus a packet of biscuits he found lodged behind a stack of plates (still in date – he checked), Hongbin is sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.

He looks up when he sets the tray down, eyes a little out of focus. “You didn't have to do that.”

Wonshik shrugs. “It's good for me to be civilised once in a while,” he teases, nudging him with his shoulder. Hongbin laughs, and sets his phone aside. Wonshik waits until he has taken a sip of his drink, before he speaks up again. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” He asks carefully. “I can see you've been crying.”

Hongbin stares down at the cup in his hand. “The usual,” he says bitterly. “They need money for some loan, or whatever, so who do they come to? The unattached youngest son, who isn't doing anything with his life, and therefore can afford to constantly bail his parents out of their messes.”

“What about your sisters?” Wonshik knows the answer already, but feels the need to ask. When they first started dating, he was curious about the fact that Hongbin seemed to have far less money than he should – but he soon figured out why. It's why he has been trying to pay for more things, though Hongbin hates it.

“They have lives,” Hongbin gives a dark life, “they're not single hermits like me. They've got partners to think about.” He takes another gulp of his drink. “And besides, they were always paying for shit when they were younger. It's my turn, really.”

“It's not fair,” Wonshik says, a little hypocritically. He too is still supporting his parents, and has done since he was very young. But it is different, for him – he does it by choice, and his parents seem to have a better grasp of their financial affairs than Hongbin's parents do. They do not ask him to help them – unless they really, really have to.

“They're my family,” Hongbin's mouth curls into a bitter smile, “as they constantly remind me. I should _want_ to do it.”

“Not at a cost to yourself,” Wonshik argues, again knowing that it is the pot calling the kettle black. When he was younger, and not doing as well as he is now, he often went without to make sure his parents and sister were doing okay. “Not when you have your rent to pay, and bills, and a life of your own.”

Hongbin laughs, but it is not a joyful sound. “You know, they actually told me I don't have a life? Not explicitly, obviously, but they were constantly alluding to it. And then my mother started going on about introducing me to some girls that she knows, and suggesting I sell my Xbox so I have time to go out and I just – ” He sighs, placing a hand over his eyes. “I exploded,” he admits.

“Do they – do they know you're gay?” Wonshik asks curiously, suddenly aware he has never asked this question. It suddenly feels of vital importance.

“I…I've never said it in so many words,” Hongbin mutters. “But I thought it was clear.” He gives a pained smile. “I suppose I'd have to snog you right in front of everyone for them to _really_ get it, though.”

Wonshik is beginning to understand why he hasn't told them that they're dating, and he feels a rush of gratitude for his own parents, who have been far more understanding than he ever expected them to be. “We can do that, if you want,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “I'm up for it.”

Hongbin shoots him a wry smile. “Some exhibitionist tendencies you haven't told me about?” He teases. Wonshik flushes.

“I'm saying nothing, on the grounds it might incriminate me,” he mutters, and Hongbin actually chuckles.

“I told them about us,” he says, after a pause. Wonshik looks up at him sharply, a little shocked. “They kept going on and on about how I hadn't had a girlfriend since I was in my teens and it just – came out. My sisters weren't too surprised – I think they've always known. But my parents...” He laughs, the sound hollow and painfully fake. “I don't think I've ever seen them so...pale.”

“You're pretty pale to begin with.” Wonshik doesn't know why he says it. Perhaps it is some latent sense that making a sarcastic comment about something always makes it feel less of a big deal.

“Yeah,” Hongbin agrees, “I know.”

“What did they...say?”

“Nothing, at first.” Hongbin leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He rests his forehead against his clasped hands. “But that, unfortunately, didn't last long.” Wonshik finds that he is holding his breath. “Especially when I told them that I wanted to move in with you, and that I've been seeing you for a long time.”

“You want to move in with me?” Wonshik asks, pleased.

Hongbin shoots him an exasperated – if fond – look. “Yes, I do,” he says, “but that's not the point here.”

“Sorry,” Wonshik mumbles, suitably chastened. “Go on.”

“They just went on and on about how it was embarrassing, and how I was their only son and I'm supposed to carry the family line and all that fucking _bullshit_.” He sucks in a breath. “So I – I,” he gives a shaky laugh, “I lost it.”

“You lost it?” Wonshik prompts quietly, more than a little worried. Hongbin has a habit of sitting on his feelings until he explodes – and quite clearly, he _has_ exploded.

Hongbin nods. “I think I lost it at 'this is just a phase.' And it might have ended with me saying at least I couldn't accidentally have a child I didn't want, and dump it in a monastery rather than dealing with it.” He looks sheepish, but there is a glint of pride in his eye. Wonshik is aware that he has wanted to say these things for a very long time.

“And then I'm guessing you left?” Wonshik shuffles a little closer, sliding an arm around his shoulders.

“And then I left,” Hongbin agrees. “I doubt they'll talk to me for a while, but honestly, I'm kind of glad about it.”

“Hongbin...” Wonshik says reprovingly. “You'll miss them eventually.”

He lifts his shoulders. “Honestly, I'm not sure I will. I moved out when I was eighteen, and it's not like I saw a lot of them as a child.”

“Where did you go at eighteen?” Wonshik asks curiously. “You can't have had any money.”

“Well, no,” Hongbin says. “I considered becoming a trainee – I mean, I wanted to be an actor, and I thought, well, if all I have is a pretty face, I might as well try. But...” He swallows, staring at his clasped hands. “I didn't. I just went into the army, because it was easier than trying to figure out what I wanted, and hell, at least I could get it out of the way. Then they stuck me in the police unit, and I decided I liked it. I never looked back. I never moved back in.”

“It was brave of you,” Wonshik tells him, reaching for his hand. “To do it all alone.”

Hongbin shrugs off the praise, as he usually does. “I had to,” he says roughly. “It's not like my parents had the money to support me.” He heaves a sigh, wiping at his nose. “Besides, it was the same for you. I know it was.”

Wonshik nods, unsure how to say that it wasn't, not really – his parents didn't have the money to support him, true, but they were always there, cheering him on in the background. They always made sure he knew he was welcome. But how can he say that without making Hongbin feel worse?

“I don't usually talk about this,” Hongbin confesses, with a hollow laugh. “It makes me seem all kinds of pathetic.”

“You're not pathetic.” Wonshik presses himself closer, hoping that his physical presence will make anything easier. “Far from it.”

“I am,” he mumbles. “I just try not to seem that way.”

“Would I be with you, if you were pathetic?” Wonshik murmurs, placing a hand on his face. Hongbin looks up at him, his dark eyes haunted.

“You could just have really, really bad taste.”

“Shut up,” Wonshik orders, and buries Hongbin's next sarcastic comment against his mouth.

The trail of clothes they're leaving on the way to Wonshik's bedroom will bother him in the morning, but right now, all he can think about is the way Wonshik's toned arms feel underneath his hands, his senses overpowered by the way Wonshik kisses.

His shirt is on the floor, his belt unbuckled, Wonshik's fingers ghosting against his happy trail. He feels a pleasurable jolt as his boyfriend's hand sneaks underneath his trousers to cup him through his boxers. They're already wet with precum, and Wonshik laughs against his mouth.

“Nice to know I have that effect on you,” he teases, and Hongbin swallows.

***

The feeling of Wonshik buried deep inside of him is enough of a distraction. He doesn't think about the look on his parent's faces, or the register of their voices as they yelled at him, or how he always feels like he's fifteen again when he goes back home. All he can think about is the way Wonshik feels against him.

“Move,” he whispers, and Wonshik starts slow, gently rolling his hips. His breath catches, but he doesn't tell him to stop, or go faster. This feels...right.

Any other day, and he'd probably want it fast and hard, in the desperate, intense way they're so good at, but not tonight. Tonight he wants the comfort of Wonshik's arms around him, the reminder that he _does_ have someone to come home to.

He wants to feel loved. And if Wonshik is good at anything, he's good at that.

His breath rattles as Wonshik finds his rhythm, thrusting into him at that same, gentle, slow pace. He clings to his shoulders, one leg wrapped around Wonshik's waist to drive him just that little bit _deeper._

“I love you,” he says, the words followed by a moan as Wonshik brushes against his prostate. His leg tightens around his waist, heel digging into Wonshik's back. “God, I love you,” he gasps, as Wonshik begins quickening his strokes.

***

He's sitting with his back against the headboard, his arms behind his head, when Wonshik returns with drinks. “God your bed is comfortable,” he greets him, as Wonshik kicks the door shut behind him. “I don't understand how you leave it every morning.”

“Well, I usually find myself sleeping anywhere _but_ my bed,” Wonshik admits, a wry smile on his face as he hands him a beer. “But yes, it is comfortable. And,” he adds slyly, “it can be your bed, if you move in with me.”

He has a triumphant grin on his face as he says it, and Hongbin pulls him closer, hand cradling his chin. He kisses him, gently at first, but more firmly as Wonshik wraps his free arm around him.

“I never said I was moving in here,” he says as he breaks away. “Maybe I wanted you to move into my place.”

“But your place is small and not as nice as this,” Wonshik counters, pouting slightly.

“I know,” Hongbin rolls his eyes, taking a slug of beer. “I was just teasing. Of course I'd move in here. Your apartment is amazing.”

“It is,” Wonshik says, casting a fond gaze around the room. “So when are you going to move in?” He asks promptly. “Tomorrow?”

Hongbin chokes on his drink. “You're getting a _little_ ahead of yourself, considering we've only just started talking about this.”

Wonshik settles into the bed beside him, pulling the duvet over both their legs and taking a long draught of his own drink. “What's there to talk about? You want to move in, I want you to move in – simple.” He grins. “And it's not like you have that much stuff, so it would take what? A day or so?”

“I don't _have_ a day or so,” Hongbin mutters, but smiles anyway. “We can figure it out later.”

“But you'll move in soon, right?” Wonshik stipulates. “Because you can't just promise me this and then hold out on me.”

“Okay, okay!” Hongbin laughs at the expression on his face. “Soon. I promise!”

“Good,” Wonshik says, pleased.


End file.
